


Love Over Peppermint Coffee

by Michelle_A_Emerlind



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Explicit Language, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's peppermint mocha time again, so Rick must find a new coffee shop after Lori divorces him and the local coffee guy is fine indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Over Peppermint Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by one of my short fics for [12 Days of a Rickyl Christmas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2774852/chapters/6223079).

After Lori divorced him, Rick had to find a new Starbucks. He was going to be damned if he ran into his ex-wife while he was still not awake enough to function in the early morning hours before his patrol shift. Shane laughed at him, said he’d start making the coffee runs instead of Rick and that Rick didn’t have to worry his pretty, fragile head about it. But Rick flat out refused. He liked his coffee. And he liked the act of getting it himself. There was something in the ordering process that always set him at ease--the familiar smell of the inside of a coffee shop, the friendly smiles, and his name written right there on the side of the cup.

So he researched and he found the Starbucks on Cedar and 19th, right by the city limits. It meant a backtrack of about five miles from his new apartment to the station, but it was worth it to not have to worry about seeing Lori’s face in the crowd. Or making small talk with Mrs. Henderson, his old neighbor, about how he was holding up and if he wanted to go on a date with her daughter.

He didn’t. In fact, the divorce had been rather freeing in that area. It made him see his whole life in a new light and he had made a startling discovery. On the list of reasons why he and Lori didn’t work out--of which there were _buckets_ of items--one of the very top ones read in sparkling rainbow letters “Rick Grimes is gay.”

It had taken him a good couple of months to get over that one. Granted, Rick had always known that a part of him was not so straight--the same part of him that happened to notice Shane’s abs when Shane did that stretching thing that made his shirt ride up. The same part of him that also noticed that their newest police recruit had a fine ass. And the same part of him that had a really weird connection with Celine Dion.

Mostly, though, Rick’s new gayhood stemmed not from the physical side, but the emotional one. As sure as he would admit to checking out Shane, he would admit to the fact that he had been extremely attracted to Lori. He still thought Cameron Diaz was a fine, fine piece of work. And their office secretary, Traci, was still cute as a freaking button. But then Rick had got to thinking about things beyond just attraction. He thought about how good he and Shane worked together. Thought about how he had always rather hang with the guys than his current girlfriend or wife. And then he had thought about all the times Lori begged him to say something, anything, that showed that he did have emotions, that he did care. And how he couldn’t. And all the times that he had told Shane everything that Lori wanted to know and more. Deep things about himself that no one knew.

It had all clicked for him, like a nail finally driven home. He had had a romance with his male friend for longer than he had had any relationships at all with his wife and wasn’t that strange? He began to think about Shane more and more. About how they spent nearly every moment that wasn’t Tuesday evening together. About how Shane gave him that smile. About how when things got really rough, Shane was always there to support him. Fuck, Rick had thought, he was gay for his friend.

Only Shane was in a new relationship with some guy named Merle and from the looks of it, a pretty deep one. And Rick wasn’t going to mess that up. Not for anything. Besides, he figured, he and Shane weren’t that good for each other. They couldn’t be if neither of them had noticed it for this long. And Rick had a sinking suspicion that if they did cross that line, it might devolve into arguments and resentment. They were both pretty strong willed people and Rick wasn’t entirely sure if push came to shove that they would be compatible.

So Rick had holed himself up inside his apartment for the better part of the month, crying into his pillow about how he now had an ex-wife and even his friend didn’t love him. And then he had dusted himself off, shaken out the rusty bits of his broken life, and decided he was single. And ready to gay mingle.

And also ready for a peppermint mocha since they had just come out. So he headed into the Starbucks on Cedar, chiming the little bell above the door as he slid in. It was still early in the morning--6:30--and so only a few other customers milled about. Rick wouldn’t normally be there this early, but he still had his civilian clothes on and needed to get to the station early to change.

The store was decorated for Christmas already, reds and greens plastered everywhere and little snowflakes stuck all around the counter. Christmas specials were listed on a separate board on the menu and there, right there, was his peppermint mocha.

He stepped up the counter and smiled at the attendant behind it, who looked like working there had been the worst decision of his life. “Help you?” the man asked and Rick took a second to study him. He looked like he’d be far more comfortable out in the woods somewhere-- surrounded by trees and large skies, not stuck behind a small coffee counter. His hair was rather tousled underneath the Starbucks hat and he wore the green apron loosely, like he was just waiting for the moment he could shed it like a snake sheds a skin. Rick looked at his name tag, the large block letters--”Darrell”--and the sharpie line straight through it with a scrawled “Daryl” above.

“Grande peppermint mocha,” Rick said and handed over his credit card. The man grunted and took the card, frowned at it, and then started punching buttons on the machine in that clear way that let Rick know he hadn’t been working here for very long. But Rick wasn't in any hurry, so he let him sit there, cursing the register under his breath, and didn’t even make a comment about it. Daryl finally got the order in and managed to get the amount right and Rick slid a nice tip into the jar, figuring that maybe the guy needed it.

Rick stepped back and watched as Daryl made the coffee, with only a couple more “shits” underneath his breath. And then Daryl was turning around and frowning again, looking at the three people waiting. “Uh,” he said, “whose was this? Mocha?”

Rick suppressed a smile and stepped forward, grabbing it. “You’re supposed to write the name on the cup,” he said.

Daryl glowered. “Don’t know your name.”

“You’re supposed to ask,” Rick said and he did smile then. He tipped the coffee up at Daryl in acknowledgement and then slid out of the coffee shop, leaving the frowning attendant behind.

***

Rick thought that that would have been the end of it, but the next morning he walked into the store to find the very same attendant running the station again. This time, though, he had a freshly printed name tag, evidently spelled correctly if the lack of sharpie was to be believed, and a slightly more confident way of pressing the register buttons.

Rick waited in line and when it was his turn, he stepped right up. Daryl glanced at him over the counter and Rick thought he saw an up-and-down eye movement and he wondered what that meant. But then Daryl was asking him, “Help you?” in that same tone he had used yesterday--bored and exacerbated--and Rick thought the polite thing to do was to repeat himself as well. So he said “grande peppermint mocha” and Daryl grunted.

“ _Name_?” he asked and gave Rick a look, his eyes narrowed and somehow boring into Rick’s very soul, planting little seeds of sarcasm everywhere it went.

“So you remember me?” Rick asked and Daryl’s eyes narrowed further and he grunted again. Rick smiled and opened his mouth to say his name, but Daryl had already picked up a cup and was writing on the lid. “You know you’re supposed to write on the cup, right?” Rick asked, but then Daryl was tipping the lid Rick’s way so Rick could see the large capped DOUCHE written firmly across the white expanse. Rick rolled his eyes. “Could get you fired for that.”

Daryl shrugged. “Could care,” he said and then made a clicking sound with his lips. “Don’t.”

But Rick figured he would let it slide as Daryl walked away, obviously making his coffee. He moved down the line and waited patiently until Daryl was handing him the cup over the counter. Rick nodded at him in acknowledgement, even giving him a little smile, and then headed out the door.

***

The next day, Rick didn’t find Daryl in the Starbucks. Instead, he found a larger guy behind the counter, the tag “MANAGER” clipped above “THEODORE” and Theodore was not nearly as fun as Daryl was. For one, he wrote Rick’s name on the cup and not the lid and he did the craziest thing--he was friendly and proficient at his job. So by the time Rick was grabbing his coffee, he was none too happy.

In retrospect, it might have come across as a little stalkerish to ask Theodore if Daryl still worked there and judging from the manager’s look, it might have not been the best decision to bring up conversation about his sassy and sarcastic new employee. But Theodore nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Off today, but works later. Why? You have a situation you need to talk about?”

Rick shook his head. “No,” he said. “Doing a great job, even if he’s new.”

That seemed to make Theodore happy, though, because he smiled and said that he would definitely let Daryl know. Then Rick tried to take it back. But Theodore would have none of it and so that was that.

***

This time, when Rick pulled into the parking lot, he became anxious. He realized somewhere in the back of his mind that he had driven here less because of the delicious flavor of peppermint coffee and more because of the easy sight of Daryl’s eyes. And that was slightly disturbing. But he wasn’t going to give up a coffee--and a conversation--just because his nerves were a little haywire that morning.

So he walked into the shop, listening to the soothing sound of the little bell chiming and sure enough, Daryl was there--green apron hanging off of him, hair sticking out, frown firmly on. Rick walked up to the counter and smiled. “Morning,” he said and opened his mouth, but before he got it out, Daryl cut in.

“Peppermint mocha?” he asked and Rick smiled, nodding. Daryl picked up a lid--thank god, Rick thought--and scrawled something down. It wasn’t until after the coffee was purchased and made that Rick saw what it was. He grinned down at the note, “asshole who got me out of trouble with my manager,” and then he saw the slightest of glimmers in Daryl’s spectacularly gray-blue eyes and the smallest of tilts from the corners of his mouth.

Rick nodded at him and tipped the coffee up. “Have a good day,” he said and Daryl nodded back, looking coy and damn fine.

***

After that, it was a Thing. Capital “T” and all, Rick decided. Because it wasn’t just the lowercase. Not just a “thing” when Daryl’s eyes were so freaking pretty and his smile was just to die for. And even if Rick _had_ decided that sexy eyes and gorgeous smiles only warranted lowercase, he would have definitely upped it after the little messages Daryl kept leaving--“guy with too much of an attitude,” “brunette bitch,” “bastard who has a really good shirt on,” etc.

So Rick determined that if it was, really was, going to be a Thing, that he should at least tell the guy his name. That was only common courtesy. Being a gentleman. So two weeks later, Rick walked in and before Daryl could even get one word out, he said, “Rick. Rick Grimes.”

Daryl stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowed in a more calculating way than they normally were with Rick and then he was grunting out. “Rick Grimes, huh? Common name around these parts?”

Rick frowned and then shrugged. “Might be a few of us, but I haven’t heard of it. Why?”

Daryl tipped his head in a half-nod to himself and then looked at Rick. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to be a cop. Would you?”

Rick furrowed his brow, suddenly on the defensive. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Daryl shrugged. “Just, uh, brother got arrested. ‘Bout a month ago. By a Rick Grimes.” Rick opened his mouth to ask how Daryl would remember that, but Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Merle. Got this chalkboard where he writes down cop’s names. No shittin’ indea what for.”

Rick blinked. “Merle,” he said and surely, he thought, there had to be more than one Merle in Georgia. “Would that be…” He cleared his throat. “Would that be Merle...Dixon?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

“Your brother?” Rick asked and Daryl nodded. “Oh,” was all Rick could think of to say, but then the lady behind him was prodding him to order and Daryl was grabbing a lid and Rick waited nervously to see what it would say.

As Daryl reached over the counter to hand him his mocha, Rick thought that if he was going to keep the Thing a Thing and not demote it to a thing, he’d better step his game up. So he reached over and took the coffee, but made sure to trail his fingers across the back of Daryl’s slowly, his nails scraping lightly across the surface. He watched Daryl’s breath hitch, his beautiful gray-blue eyes dilate just the smallest amount and Rick smiled at him slowly. The corners of Daryl’s mouth hitched up and for a moment they just stared at one another before the same lady that yelled at Rick was yelling at them again and Rick was pretty sure that he was going to arrest her for the public indecency of not letting a man damn well flirt with his barista.

***

The next day, Rick’s coffee lid read “Rick” and he was kind of disappointed by it. But then again, he wasn’t, because at least now he knew what his name would look like written out by Daryl’s graceful fingers. And speaking of Daryl’s graceful fingers, he touched them again. Did the same thing as the last time, letting his hand linger, his eyes burn.

Which was probably at least one of the reasons for the next lid he received later that week, the one that read “that handsy guy.” And then later, the one that said, “bitch who has nice curly hair,” and “guy with the denim eyes” and “dude with a nice ass.” Daryl got an eyebrow raise for the last one and Rick made sure to leave the coffee shop with that little sway to his hips that he knew was rusty, but still seemed to work out just fine.

And then, Rick noticed, all in a rush, it was the 23rd of December. And Starbucks was closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Which meant two very bad things: 1. His peppermint mocha would be gone and more importantly, 2. He was pretty sure that Daryl was only working the holiday season, which meant his last day was soon, if it wasn’t even _that_ day. So even though Rick didn’t have work, he rushed as quickly as he could to the Starbucks and all but burst in to find Daryl there, apron hanging off his frame and his hat--Santa hat, this time--attached to his head.

Rick couldn’t help but smile like a little schoolboy and he was incredibly delighted when Daryl smiled like a schoolboy back. And that meant that Rick couldn’t do _anything_ but walk right up to the counter and open his mouth to say “peppermint mocha,” but Daryl was already drawing a lid out of the dispenser and writing on it furiously and, if Rick wasn't just seeing things, a little nervously.

Daryl didn’t say anything, but he turned and quickly made the coffee and Rick thought that after he grabbed the cup and looked at the lid, he was going to ask Daryl out. Only he didn’t have to, because right there, in that familiar scrawl, were the words “Shift ends at ten. Wait for me?” and the word “no” never crossed Rick’s mind.

But when Rick looked up from his cup, Daryl was disappearing into the back fast and Rick frowned as Theodore came out to help customers. Rick waited for a few minutes, but still no Daryl, so he sat and checked his watch. Forty-five minutes til ten. So Rick sat there, drank his coffee and examined the red and green decorations for about twenty minutes. And then the place was getting a little crowded, so he couldn’t really stand around much longer without risking the other customers badgering him about taking up table space.

So he slunk out into the parking lot and the cool December air. It was just on this side of nippy and Rick decided it was better to wait outside of his car than in it. So he propped himself up on the hood and waited for Daryl to come out of the store. And waited. And waited. The minutes by--twenty minutes to, then fifteen, then ten, then he swore that time moved backwards and it was _eleven_ minutes. And then, miraculously, it was ten o’clock and Rick fidgeted with his jacket nervously.

It took Daryl about three minutes to hop out of the store, a frown fixed firmly in place. He scanned the left side of the parking lot first, where Rick wasn’t and Rick whistled and waved at him when he turned.

Then Rick watched the most amazing thing. Daryl’s mouth broke out into a full smile this time, his eyes shining in the morning sun, and Rick thought it was a damn good thing that that man always wore a Starbucks apron, because seeing him right here in that T-shirt and leather jacket with his hair swept by the wind in such a pattern that the universe deserved a freaking _medal_ for was making Rick weak in more places that just his knees. And then something even more fantastic was happening. That vision of hot and adorable and sexy and cute was walking up to _him_ , to Rick Grimes, and Rick felt his own face nearly hurting he was smiling so much.

Daryl slid up to him nice and easy and gave him a once-over and when his eyes met Rick’s again, they were burning with all kinds of mischievous intent. Rick couldn’t help it. There was absolutely no way he could wait for _do you want to go on a date_ and _yes, where_ and _pick you up at seven_ and _that was a great date_ and _okay, well, goodnight_. And so Rick leaned forward off the hood of his car right then and there and slid his hand easily onto Daryl’s neck like he’d been wanting to since the first moment he saw him and then Daryl’s eyes were there and then they were closed, but Rick’s were too. And then their mouths were together, all soft and hard at the same time, all want and desire, and they were kissing and Rick’s heart was pounding in his chest from fear and happiness.

Daryl kissed back confidently, like he’d been planning it, and Rick felt himself falling back on the hood again, only grabbing Daryl’s hip and dragging Daryl with him this time and something in the back of Rick’s mind dinged that Daryl was probably going to get fired for gay kissing a customer in the parking lot, but it didn’t matter, because this was damn near perfect and he hoped as hell that Daryl felt it, too.

And then Daryl was pulling away, his lips and his tongue scraping against Rick’s mouth. Daryl grinned at him and then leaned down quickly to nip at Rick’s jaw and if Rick hadn’t been thoroughly turned on before, he was now. Daryl put his hands in Rick’s hair and leaned their foreheads together and smiled. “‘Bout time,” he said. “Been waiting for you to ask me out for weeks, but it looks like you were being a pussy about it. Figured I’d take it into my own hands.”

“Yeah,” Rick said and his voice sounded squeaky, off-kilter, and he was honestly surprised that words like _you’re perfect_ and _you’re gorgeous_ and _take me right here_ hadn’t poured out of his mouth.

Daryl smiled again and Rick lost every thought that had ever been in his head and he had to kiss him again. He just _had_ to. And the amazing thing was that Daryl kissed back and he never stopped.


End file.
